What stays in mind is the scrape of boots charging
the perimeter fence, and staples flying like chaff.
Like the parting of the Red Sea, the shocked crowd opens
a path to the centre. They take it. They take the field!
Now thirty thousand are howling for their blood.
Nothing to be done but lock their arms and hold
while police in visored helmets with new long batons
close and threaten. Watching, I am weak with fear.
It’s not recorded what Daniel does in the den.
The stone closes, the king seals it with his ring,
and a night passes. Does Daniel sing, pray,
talk to the lions? Does he remember his brothers
who walked through fire with the Lord? The game is cancelled.
On my knees in mud I give thanks for this victory.